


Begged and Borrowed Time

by mjhealy



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/F, but its gonna hurt like a bitch along the way, cordelia is bad at feelings, loosely inspired by ivy by taylor swift, mostly Misty POV, okay this WILL have a happy ending i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:08:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjhealy/pseuds/mjhealy
Summary: Of course, Cordelia doesn't know about the apocalypse, or time travel, or the rise of a new Supreme. All she knows is that Misty showed up at the door, and for a brief moment, all is right in their world.But nothing is ever easy.(or, Misty and Cordelia fight for their happy ever after).
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 52
Kudos: 89





	1. where the spirit meets the bone

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i wasn't going to start publishing this yet but fuck it why not. this is going to be a multi-chapter of what happens immediately after the final foxxay reunion of apocalypse, and it's somewhat inspired by ivy by taylor swift (yes this is my second foxxay fic in a row inspired by that song but taylor swift wrote it about them i think). i've got this whole thing mapped out and i intend to finish it in the next month or two (assuming people actually want me to)! 
> 
> enjoy!

She knows, even in the moment, that she will never forget the feeling of Cordelia’s arms around her, standing in the entrance of Miss Robichaux’s. She tries to soak in every fucking second, imprint them on her soul: the look in Cordelia’s eyes when she sees her in the doorway, the feeling of her hands tugging through her unruly curls, the warmth as she wraps her up tightly, as if she knows Misty is inches away from falling apart and she can hold her together with sheer physical strength. The moment she’s spent an eternity fantasizing about.

When Cordelia pulls out of their hug, she feels like the floor might fall out from under her. She fights the urge to hold on even tighter. She isn’t totally sure this is even really happening, really; this may still be a dream she’s about to wake up from. But as she steps back, she takes a good look at the headmistress, drinking her in, and she knows this is real. She knows Cordelia is real.

She can barely keep track of the conversation that’s unfolding. “I’m Papa’s favourite,” Nan is explaining beside her. “He’s my boo.” Cordelia’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Misty holds back a gasp as she realizes they’ve changed colour since she last saw the woman. She doesn’t catch a word that’s said from that moment on, too enthralled by Cordelia’s new brown eyes. Starkly different from the angry red wounds Misty had last seen before her descension into Hell, or the pretty mismatched blue and brown eyes she had found so endearing, or the glassy clouded ones she’d first fallen in love with. These new eyes are a deep chocolate brown, far darker than she’d ever expected, a stunning contrast with Cordelia’s light features. _They must have been healed when Cordelia assumed the Supremacy._

“Misty,” she hears Cordelia say, lurching her back into reality. “I’d like you to meet an exceptional young witch. This is Mallory.” 

She pries her eyes off of Cordelia and onto the younger woman, hoping she doesn’t seem too dazed. She’s pretty, and vaguely familiar in a way that she’s sure is just one-of-those-faces, and Misty gives her a tiny smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The younger woman almost seems nervous. Misty steps forward, her smile widening.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” She is, it’s not a lie, but she also is desperate for more time with Cordelia. Still, the girl seems sweet, and strangely awed by her. She briefly wonders what’s been said about her in her absence. _Probably not much,_ she answers herself. _Why would anyone have anything to say about me? I was in this coven less than two weeks._

“It’s great to meet you, Misty,” the girl says, her voice soft. Misty is still fighting the urge to resume her staring at Cordelia. As if reading her mind, she continues, “I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.” Mallory ( _that was her name, right? Everything is so fuzzy right now_ ) departs, and then she hears Cordelia laugh, the sweetest sound she has ever heard in her whole goddamn life, and she throws her arms around her once again.

Cordelia. She breathes in the smell of her perfume, something flowery, like lilacs, and though she can’t see her face she thinks Cordelia might be crying. “How I’ve missed you,” Misty chokes out. She can feel herself starting to crumble, now, still held together only by Cordelia’s strong arms. “I was ever so lost.” 

Cordelia doesn’t break away, and her stomach warms as she realizes that Cordelia’s as desperate to hold on to her as she is to hold on to Cordelia. “But you’re here now,” Cordelia says finally. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

And she is. She has never felt safer in her life than she does in this moment. So they stay there, holding each other, for what feels like ages, and she would have stayed longer but she just _has_ to see those eyes again. She pulls away, placing her hands on Cordelia’s shoulders, sizing her up. 

“Your eyes,” she says simply.

“Oh! I forgot, you’ve never… well. These are my real eyes. Not nearly as exciting as my husky heterochromia-”

“They’re beautiful, Miss Cordelia.”

Cordelia laughs warmly. “You know you don’t have to call me that. Not when the girls aren’t around.” 

“Sorry, habit.” Misty grins. “And I always thought it had a nice ring to it.” 

“I think we moved past Ms. Cordelia territory when you…” She stops herself abruptly, remembering herself, remembering where she is and that anyone could be listening. “Do you want something to eat? Or some water? Or I could show you up to a room? We don’t really-”

“Something to eat would be great.” She’s hungry, yes, but she also just doesn’t want to be parted from Cordelia. Not yet, at least. A gentle hand is placed on her shoulder.

“I can have the cook make something for you, or we could get you… what do you want?”

Misty chews on her lip for a second. “If I’m honest, I would kill a man for some fries right now.”

Cordelia laughs once more, and a warm flush dances upon Misty’s cheeks. 

“I think that can be arranged.”

\--

It’s still early when Misty notices Cordelia is starting to pale with exhaustion. As much as she never wants this day to end, the rims of Cordelia’s eyes are reddening, and she’s clearly fighting not to drift off at the kitchen table. Misty isn’t above admitting how endearing it is. But perhaps it’s time for bed.

“You should get some sleep,” she encourages softly, sliding her hand over Cordelia’s and stroking it with her thumb. 

“It’s only nine.”

“You’re tired,” Misty counters. “Must be exhausting. Being the Supreme and all.” Her tone is lighthearted but taunting, a proud smirk dancing on her lips, easily slipping back into the friendly mocking they’d shared in the days before Misty’s death. Cordelia almost blushes, chocolate eyes glancing downwards. Misty can’t get enough of those damn new eyes. 

“Well, we should at least get you settled in a room. Unless you want to go back to your shack? Because if you want to stay here, Marianne had one of the rooms all to herself and she just left last week, she got an offer from--”

“Actually,” Misty jumps in, “do you think I could stay in your room? Just for the time being. I don’t gotta stay there forever but it might be nice to… have some company. For now.” 

She’s not sure why she’s so nervous to ask--it certainly wouldn’t be the first night she spent in Cordelia’s room, in Cordelia’s bed. But she could swear she sees a flash of hesitancy flash across her eyes (God, she needs to stop staring at this woman’s eyes). Before she can be sure, Cordelia smiles.

“Of course.” She gives Misty’s hand a tight squeeze, standing up from the table.

Misty traces a familiar path, muscle memory, towards the bottom of the stairs. Her feet feel gentle on the floor, almost as if she’s floating, lighter from the lifted weight of the torment that ended today.

“Misty,” Cordelia calls after her, leaning against the frame of the kitchen doorway. “I’ve moved.”

“Oh!” _Of course she has,_ Misty thinks to herself. _It’s been years since I’ve been here._ Still, the realization twists in her stomach a little bit. Things have changed. She’s been gone.

“I have a room downstairs now. We wanted to make more space upstairs. And it’s a little more private, a little more secluded.” Misty isn’t sure if she means that to sound as suggestive as it does. 

“I thought the Supreme always gets that nice big room, the one Fiona used to…” she trails off, suddenly feeling awkward. 

“We renovated, turned that into two rooms. More space for more girls to sleep.” Cordelia raises an eyebrow. “We’ve grown.”

“I see that.” She isn’t sure exactly why she feels a pang of sadness at those words. The coven she remembers was small, intimate. Just her, and Cordelia, and a handful of girls. _But this is good_ , she tells herself. _Cordelia has done such a good job._ “Well, show me to this new, secluded room then.” 

Cordelia tilts her head down the hall, signalling for her to head in that direction. She trails behind Misty, a little slower. “Last door on the left,” she calls after her. Misty swings it open. 

It’s lovely. Fiona’s room always felt cold to Misty--thought that probably had more to do with the occupant than the room itself--but this one feels like Cordelia. Bright and white and beautiful and homey. Her bed is high off the ground, a four poster that looks fit for a princess. Or a Supreme, she corrects. 

She freezes as she enters the bedroom. “I don’t have any clothes,” Misty blurts out, speaking the thought aloud the second it enters her head. “I got nothing. Only what I’m wearin’.” She shifts nervously on her feet. “You got anything I could borrow? I can go shopping tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Cordelia assures her. Misty chuckles to herself, the image of one of Cordelia’s flowy nightgowns or robes on her own lanky frame flashing through her mind. But then she hears Cordelia cough awkwardly. “Actually, I… have a few things of yours, there. In the bottom of my closet.” 

Oh. _Oh._

Misty looks up at her. “My things?”

Cordelia doesn’t reply, gesturing to the closet with her head instead. Misty steps towards it. A box in the bottom is labeled in thick sharpie letters: Misty. She chews the inside of her cheek, bending down and pulling out a Bella Donna t-shirt riddled with holes. The box is stuffed with the few articles of clothing Misty had brought with her to Miss Robichaux’s, a few records, some shawls. She chews harder, refusing to acknowledge the tears threatening to appear. 

“Thanks for keeping them for me.” She turns to Cordelia, who shrugs. 

“I couldn’t bear to get rid of them,” she answers, like an excuse. Misty nods. _That doesn’t explain why they’re in your bedroom._

Cordelia has pulled out a robe of her own from a separate closet, and she wordlessly takes it into the bathroom to change. Misty blinks, surprised. _Not like I haven’t seen her naked before._ But she figures she should follow her lead, and once Cordelia has emerged she, too, heads into the bathroom to change in privacy.

“Do y’all have extra toothbrushes?” She asks, stepping out in a pair of pajama shorts and the t-shirt she’d pulled out. Cordelia pulls one from a drawer in her dresser, which Misty assumes is full of extra toiletries for any girls who may need. _Or anyone else who may stay the night in Cordelia’s room,_ the voice in her head bites back. 

(The voice in her head has gotten a little meaner over the past few years.)

Cordelia is in bed. The sight is almost too much for Misty to handle. The memory of Cordelia curled up in thick blankets, a book in her lap, is one that she returned to time and time again in Hell, a source of comfort. Now, here she is in person, only in place of a book, she holds her iPhone in one hand, scrolling halfheartedly. She looks so different than she used to. Not just her eyes, and her longer hair, curled beautifully at the bottom, but her face is older, wiser. Hardened. And beautiful. The tears threaten at Misty’s eyes once again, burning.

She climbs in beside the older woman, hoping it isn’t too obvious that she wants nothing more than to crawl into Cordelia’s arms and hold onto her forever, never leave this bed again. “Those have gotten bigger,” she jokes instead, motioning towards the iPhone in Cordelia’s hand. She hears her chuckle.

“And I’ve gotten more addicted to mine.” She puts it down on the bedside table, reaching for one of Misty’s hands and taking it in her own. “I’m so, so glad you’re back.”

Misty nods. “Me too.” She fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt. “I used to dream about this so much. Coming back here. Seeing you again.”

“You only knew me for twelve days.” Cordelia tries to sound lighthearted, as if she too hasn’t spent the past two years physically aching to hold Misty just one more time. 

“They were twelve awesome days,” Misty answers. “Twelve days that got me through the awful.” 

The tears finally appear. Cordelia reaches out to wipe one away with her thumb. “No crying. Today is happy. Today is good.”

“Today is everything.” She smiles, forcing the tears away. Cordelia is right. No crying. 

“I know it’s really early. I sleep early,” Cordelia says quietly. “You can stay up if you want. I can leave a light on, I have books, you can play on my phone.” It’s barely 9:30, but Misty can’t imagine being anywhere but in bed next to Cordelia. Besides, she can tell the woman’s eyelids are growing heavy with sleep, and now that she’s curled up in a warm bed for the first time in years, the idea of drifting off sounds beyond lovely. 

“Nah, turn the light out. Let’s go to sleep.” Cordelia tugs on the chain of the lamp, and the room is plunged into darkness. Misty shudders in the sudden pitch black, and she draws herself further into Cordelia’s side. 

_This really is everything._

She lays in the dark a little while, sleep just out of reach. She can tell Cordelia isn’t sleeping either, as she tosses and turns beside her, breathing quietly. She thinks maybe she should stay up until she hears Cordelia drift off. But the longer she fights to stay awake, the harder it becomes, and soon the world fades away.

\--

“Pick up that scalpel.”

“Please, don’t make me.”

The children in the room are staring. 

“If you don’t wanna dissect a dead frog then you will dissect a live one.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, and when she speaks her voice is tight with anguish.

“No, I don’t wanna kill a living thing, please, you can’t make me-”

“You kill it or I’ll have a talk with your parents.” He tightens his grip on her hand, forcing her to move the scalpel, and then suddenly an untraceable burst of strength appears when it never has before. She overpowers his grip on her hands, and the scalpel dives into Mr. Kingery’s chest, towards his heart. She plunges it in, again, and again, and again, blood soaking through his shirt. She not sure where the urge is coming from, but she continues to plunge her scalpel into him, his face frozen in fear and pain.

She hears a strange groaning, first to her left, then on her right, then all around. The students in the class tilt their heads back, jaws pulled open, eyes rolled back into their heads, and they speak towards the sky. Her heart pounds, sweat beading against her forehead. The smell of evil is wafting through the room, and she thinks maybe it’s coming from her, maybe the evil is her, and she screams and-

Misty bolts upright in bed. In Cordelia’s bed. The clock beside the bed reads 6:52 AM, sunlight streaming through the white curtains. Cordelia is gone. Her side of the bed is empty, cool. 

Misty pads to the bathroom, takes a sip of water, catches her breath. Should she go back to bed? She doesn’t want to, not really. And she wants to know where Cordelia is. She creaks the bedroom door open quietly, stepping softly down the hall.

She gets her answer quickly, finding the headmistress sipping a coffee in the kitchen, her back towards the door. Zoe and Queenie are on either side of her, discussing something that sounds serious and work-related, and the conversation fades into silence when Misty appears in the doorway.

“Y’all start working this early? It’s not even 7.” 

Queenie laughs with only a hint of bitterness. “You’re telling me.” 

“We have a lot to deal with, and a lot of girls, these days. Mornings are our only time to meet just the three of us,” Zoe explains. Misty nods.

“Just wondered where you were,” she says towards the back of Cordelia’s head. She doesn’t turn around. “Woke up and I was all alone in that-”

Cordelia clears her throat loudly, and Misty shuts up immediately. Queenie smirks, and Zoe takes an awkward sip of coffee. _Oh._ Does Cordelia not want them knowing they shared a bed? Her cheeks warm. 

Misty waits to see if Cordelia will say anything. She doesn’t.

“Well, I guess I’ll catch you later, then…” she says quietly, fingernails tapping against the doorframe. 

“I’ll see you later, Misty,” Cordelia responds, voice quiet, completely absent of any of her usual warmth. And she still isn’t fucking turning around. Out of the corner of her eye, Misty sees Zoe’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Alrighty then.” Misty turns, eyes burning with fresh tears once again, leaving the kitchen behind. She’s not sure where to go, and suddenly Cordelia’s bedroom is the last place she wants to be, so she heads towards the front door and steps outside. 

She flops to the ground on the front steps. The streets are quiet, no one out yet, and the welcome chirping of birds greets her. _The sun is about to rise._ She never thought she’d see a sunrise again. 

She sits there as it begins, the sky turning a beautiful pinky-orange. She used to love sunrises, often leaving her shack before the crack of dawn to marvel at them from her favourite spot amidst the tall grass. She certainly would have named them as one of the things she missed most about her life, when she was in Hell. And yet, as she sits there under the rising sun, she finds the tears flowing more and more furiously, faster than she can wipe them away. 

The sky shifts to blue. The sun sits above her. She sobs under it, barely able to breathe.

What just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave me a comment if you read this and enjoyed it (or even if you hated it i'm open!) so i know if anyone's actually interested in this! also you can find me on twitter @disastertaurus i love making new friends :D


	2. a faith-forgotten land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I appreciate your concern,” Cordelia says through gritted teeth, her tone clarifying that she very much does not appreciate her concern. “Like I said, you haven’t done anything wrong.”
> 
> “Then-”
> 
> “I don’t care to discuss this anymore,” she whispers. Misty visibly flinches, and then smoothes her sweaty palms against her thighs.
> 
> “Gotcha.”

_You’re just being dramatic._

She tells herself this over and over again throughout the morning, repeating it like a mantra. Like she can make it true if she thinks it hard enough. So Cordelia didn’t want to talk to her over breakfast, in the middle of a work meeting, with two other women in the room. She probably just doesn’t like being distracted from her work.

_You’re just being dramatic._

(She knows she’s not being dramatic).

She isn’t sure where to go, now, what to do. She’s not sure what became of her shack in the swamp, in the years she’s been gone. She has no family, really; her mother moved away, last she heard, after the rumours of Misty’s death became too concrete to ignore, after she stopped looking for her. She doesn’t know where she is now. Strangely, her memories of life before she found her way to Miss Robichaux’s are almost fuzzy. She doesn’t know why; she lived more than two decades before meeting the girls, before meeting Cordelia, and yet the twelve days she spent as a member of their coven are the most vivid memories she has. She has no one else to go to. So she mills around the school, keeping to the sidelines, staying out of everyone’s way.

Groups of teenage girls parade through the halls, grabbing breakfast, speaking in pop culture references Misty doesn’t understand. She can pick out names here and there, familiarities. Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, some of the characters from that _Pretty Little Liars_ show Nan loves. Or, used to love. Does she have TV where she is now? Misty isn’t sure.

A clock chimes 9 AM. Misty remembers the sound: morning gathering. All the girls are suddenly pouring through the hallway, headed towards the Ancestral Room. Misty presses herself against a wall as they pass her, smiling nervously whenever the girls give her a questioning stare. She doesn’t blame them--she too would be wary of a sudden stranger in their midst, especially one who sticks out like a sore thumb as much as her. She notices suddenly that all the girls are dressed in black-- _a uniform?_ They didn’t used to have one. She’ll have to ask Cordelia about it.

If Cordelia will speak to her, that is.

The crowd dwindles, two stragglers no older than 13 rushing down the hall with a mumble of “we’ve already pissed off Ms. Cordelia once this week,” not stopping to give Misty a second glance. Normally, the thought of Cordelia angry would be endearing. Today it chills her bones.

She follows after the girls, stopping just short of the archway into the Ancestral Room. She’d rather not be seen. Instead, she leans against the wall outside, listening in.

“I’ve assigned these new groups based on each of your individual skills, what I believe you need most work on. As well, I will be meeting with some of you individually over the next few weeks to assess your abilities and your progress…”

Misty could care less what she’s saying, but the sound of Cordelia’s voice is like a cheese grater against her insides. She wants nothing more than to march into that room and look the headmistress dead in the eyes and ask her what’s going on, students in the room be damned. But she stands still, listening, a lump forming in her throat.

“You okay?” Zoe’s voice asks. She whips around, seeing her standing next to her. She swallows the lump with great force.

“Didn’t see ya there.”

“Are you okay?” She repeats. Misty keeps her shaking hands hidden under her shawl, forces the corners of her mouth upwards.

“Peachy.”

“I know she was weird with you this morning. She’s weird sometimes, lately. It’s just how she is. I’m sure she’s just really overwhelmed by you being back.”

“Well, so am I, but you don’t see me bein’ a bitch about it.” Misty sighs. “Sorry. I shouldn’t…”

Zoe squeezes her hand. “She doesn’t teach in the mornings. Works in her office. You can see if she needs any help with anything, I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

Misty’s smile is genuine this time. “Thanks, Zo.”

Zoe moves to continue making her way into morning gathering, but she pauses, turning back to face Misty once more.

“I’m so, so glad you’re back. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Me too.”

“And I know she is too.”

Misty bites her lip. “Thanks.”

\--

She knocks three times in quick succession, feeling all too much like a nervous third grader outside the principal’s office.

“Come in,” Cordelia’s muffled voice calls, serious but miles kinder than it was this morning. Misty cracks the door open, peering in before entering. “Oh, Misty. Hello.”

It’s not quite as curt as earlier, but it’s still nowhere near the same loving, grateful greeting she would have gotten yesterday. _What the fuck happened overnight?_

“I, uh…” She stumbles over her words. “Zoe said you work up here in the mornings, and that maybe you could use some help doing paperwork, or something. Whatever ya need.”

“Oh.” Cordelia shuffles with a stack of papers, busying her hands. “That’s alright, thank you.”

Misty nibbles on the inside of her cheek. “You sure? ‘Cause I’m an expert paper sorter. Real good at… shuffling papers and all.” It’s possibly the worst attempt at a joke she’s ever made.

Cordelia gives her a strained smile. “I’m fine, Misty. Why don’t you go see if Queenie or Zoe could use a teaching assistant.”

“Oh. Okay, sure.” She stands there awkwardly, trying to find the will to turn and leave. Cordelia’s gaze returns downwards, to the laptop open on her desk, though Misty gets the feeling she’s really looking at anything-but-Misty’s-face.

Her fingernails tap absentmindedly against the door frame. “Um, Cordelia?” She swallows. “Have I done something wrong?”

Cordelia sighs. “No, you haven’t.” Misty squints at her. “But I do have a lot to get done this morning, and I need to get back to work.”

“Did something happen while I was asleep? ‘Cause yesterday we were all fine and dandy and today you keep talking to me like I slept with your husband or something.” She regrets the joke as soon as she’s made it. A little too close for comfort for Cordelia. “You’re just being real weird today, is all.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Cordelia says through gritted teeth, her tone clarifying that she very much does not appreciate her concern. “Like I said, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then-”

“I _don’t_ care to discuss this anymore,” she whispers. Misty visibly flinches, and then smoothes her sweaty palms against her thighs.

“Gotcha.” It’s all she can do to not burst into tears right here, on the spot, so she quickly turns. “I’ll be outta your hair then.”

Cordelia has no answer as Misty shuts the door tightly behind her. She takes a moment to catch her breath, grateful that everyone is downstairs as she presses her back against the wall. Without warning, everything seems to be spinning around her, and she tries to force herself to breathe but she can’t. All the air seems to have left the room, and as much as she gasps for it she can’t get any into her lungs.

The lights are blinding. She stumbles down the hall, not wanting to be outside Cordelia’s office anymore, and manages to sneak down the hall and out the front door once more. The fresh air helps; for the second time today, she plunks down on the front steps and takes deep, steadying breaths. Her chest aches with the effort.

On the street, people pass. Moms with strollers, kids in school uniforms, people with briefcases. People. Real people and sunlight, two things she has barely seen in two years. She feels a little more grounded as she watches them pass, going about their normal lives.

 _You had a life before Cordelia,_ she reminds herself. _A nice one._ With great determination, she stands. She’s been given a second--third? fourth?--chance at life, and she shouldn’t use it moping around Miss Robichaux’s Academy pining over a woman who suddenly doesn’t seem all too happy that she’s back. She’ll go back to her shack, see if it’s still there. Say hi to the gators, meditate with the cicadas or whatever it is she used to do before there was a Cordelia in her life. _Why can’t I remember what I did before Cordelia?_

She’ll figure it out.

\--

She takes her shoes off as she arrives at the edge of the swamp, sinking her feet into the mud. It squelches between her toes, and she absorbs the feeling for a moment.

This feels right.

She can feel her heartbeat steadying already, slower and slower the closer she comes to her old home. She traces the familiar path through the reeds, a route she has trod hundreds of times, waiting for the roof of her shack to appear in her line of sight.

It doesn’t. 

Her heart rate increases once again as she approaches and no familiar wooden roof appears. Could she have misremembered the way there? No, she knows this is right, she passed by a tree stump she carved a tiny M on years ago. This is it. And then, a few steps later, she sees it.

The foundation is still there, but the walls and roof have caved in, grey with severe water damage. Her little shack, her own little home, is no more. She chokes back a sob, stepping up to the waterlogged wood and laying a hand over what used to be the wall of her home. _Does the power of resurgence work on buildings?_ She laughs bitterly.

A glimpse of red, out of the corner of her eye. A small trail of deep red leads her around the corner of the shack, where she’s greeted by the sight of a gator. Missing a leg.

It’s Tusk. As fuzzy as her memories are, she recognizes him. He can’t have been dead too long, and she hopes whatever took his leg is long gone. What kind of animal even eats alligators? She comes closer to him, ignoring the vision of a scalpel and a bloody frog that flashes fleetingly through her mind.

“Oh, sweet thing. Something scary got to you, huh?” She crouches next to him, running her hand over his long, scaled snout. “Poor lil’ guy.”

 _He’s not too far gone,_ she thinks to herself. _I can bring him back. Not much I can do about the leg, but he can learn to live without it._

She raises her hands over his back, right crossed over left, a motion she did repeatedly for the past two years over that damn frog. Her eyes close, trying to channel the energy through her, to do what she has done so many times before.

Nothing. Tusk doesn’t move.

Misty opens her eyes, frowning. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes again, willing it to work, willing him to come back.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck,” she says aloud, into to the wind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

A sob wracks her body, doubling her over, tears falling into the bloody dirt next to her old friend. What happened to her powers? She has nothing anymore, not a damn thing. No home, no powers, and apparently no Cordelia.

She realizes, now, why her memories of this swamp life are so fuzzy. Her two years in hell, she thought of nothing but getting back to Miss Robichaux’s, getting back to Cordelia. She’d spent only twelve days there, and yet those were the memories she returned to over and over, as if she hadn’t existed before that coven. When she needed a peaceful memory to make her feel safe, she thought back to the first time she met the woman, when Cordelia seemed to stare right into her soul with cloudy blinded eyes and told her she was safe now. When she needed joy, she thought back to her very last night before Hell, before the test of the Seven Wonders.

She’d slept with Cordelia once, and only once. Her first time.

Wracked with nerves and sure that Cordelia would change her mind at any moment, sure the older woman would suddenly realize this was crazy and she wasn’t even properly divorced yet and that Misty wasn’t good enough for her. But she didn’t, and for the first time in her life Misty felt maybe she understood what love was. That maybe she was worthy of it. For the first time, she felt truly seen.

She wonders, often, if deep down she somehow knew it was her last night on earth. She’d felt drawn to Cordelia from the moment she met her, but that night it was like something shifted, as if they both knew they needed to be together right now. Misty would go on to spend days upon days being grateful for whatever higher power pushed them together that night. Throughout the following years of torment, she could always remember that, just for a moment, she’d had Cordelia. She’d been hers.

_So what changed?_

Clearly, Cordelia came to regret it. That’s the only explanation. Maybe she hadn’t realized until Misty came back. Maybe Misty in the flesh didn’t live up to the memories. Maybe she’d finally come to her senses and realized she’s way out of Misty’s league, especially now that she’s the fucking Supreme. Misty would be insane to think she could ever be good enough for her.

She always knew she wasn’t. But somehow, Cordelia had made her feel like she was.

 _Well, that’s over. Get the fuck over it._ She stands, dusting herself off. For a moment, she considers just climbing into her destroyed shack and trying to find a way to stay in it. But the weather is unpredictable, not to mention whatever animal must have taken Tusk’s leg could come back at any time, so she can’t stay here, she knows. Which leaves only Miss Robichaux’s.

So what if Cordelia doesn’t want her. She has other friends there, Zoe, and Queenie, and that girl Mallory who seemed nice. Maybe they’ll let her teach a class. Something with plants.

Straightening up, she swallows her pride and heads back down the path.

\--

“Misty! Where you been? You peaced out!”

Queenie is the first person she crosses paths with as she re-enters the building, and Misty fidgets with her hands.

“Oh, I went to see what my gators are up to.” She gives Queenie weak smile.

“How are they?”

“Dead.” Queenie frowns. “Or, one is at least. And my shack’s gone, so…”

“Damn. That sucks.” Queenie offers her an awkward pat on the arm. “Cordelia said she figured that’s where you were.”

“Oh.” Misty tries her hardest to sound normal, already knowing she’s failing. “Was she looking for me?”

“She just asked us if we knew where you’d gone.” The look on Queenie’s face is sympathetic, and Misty’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. “She said that if you came back, we could show you to the empty room upstairs. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Don’t y’all have girls to house?”

“You’re more important.”

The burning red of her cheeks isn’t fading, so she coughs. “Sure, yeah, if you can bring there. That’d be great.”

She follows Queenie upstairs, down the familiar hall, to the last door on the right.

Cordelia’s old room.

Queenie swings the door open, and on the bed Misty can see the box of her old stuff, the one that had lived in Cordelia’s closet for the past two years. _She put it here while I was out. So we wouldn’t have to cross paths._ She’s not sure if the feeling that twists in her stomach is sadness or anger. Probably a mix of both. Whatever it is, she finds words she hadn’t meant to say exiting her mouth out of sheer spite:

“I lost my virginity in here.”

“No, when you were here this was-” Queenie stops abruptly. “Hold on. You and Cordelia?” Misty’s eyes sparkle. “Damn, girl!”

And then regret digs its claws into her chest immediately. “Wait, don’t go telling anyone. She wouldn’t… want y’all to know.”

Queenie frowns. “I won’t, don’t worry.” She pauses. “Did you two fuck last night?”

“What? No! No, we just slept. And then she… Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter. Thanks for getting me all settled in.”

Queenie’s eyes are glinting with the excitement of a new secret. “Anytime, girl.”

Alone, she closes the door behind her, flopping onto the bed. She doesn’t know how to make sense of any of this. Cordelia shunned her this morning, and then once she was gone instructed Queenie to prepare a room for her that certainly should have gone to a student. So, basically, Cordelia hates her, but also wants her around enough that she’ll give up valuable rooming in the school for her, even though she has no official reason to be here. And then she has her stuff sent up so they don’t have to cross paths.

 _Makes no fucking sense_ , she thinks. She’ll have to talk to Cordelia. That’s really all there is left to do, is corner her when she can’t get away and demand to know what’s going on. She thinks she deserves an explanation.

For now, the warm bed is dangerously inviting, especially after her early morning wake-up. She’ll talk to Cordelia later. Right now, in the glowing afternoon light, she slowly drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, please leave me a comment or come chat with me @disastertaurus on twitter!


	3. how's one to know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, some food’ll help.” Cordelia nods as Misty hands her the plate, taking it awkwardly.
> 
> “I never eat in here.”
> 
> “Well, it’s fun to break the rules once in a blue moon, right?”

Cordelia is standing stock still at the top of the stairs.

Misty notices her from down the hall, not making any noise at first, waiting for the woman to make her way downstairs so that Misty can get to the kitchen without crossing her path. But a moment passes, and Cordelia is still unmoving, one arm resting heavily on the bannister. Nerves bubble in Misty’s belly. Something’s wrong.

She was avoiding making her presence known, but her worry overpowers her, and she steps forward. “Hey, Miss Cordelia? Something the matter?” She hopes the “Miss” will earn her some points.

When Cordelia exhales, her breath shakes ever so slightly, almost imperceptible. “I’m fine, Misty, thank you.”

“Okay.” For a second, neither woman moves, until Cordelia attempts to take a step down the stairs and nearly crumbles to the ground. Misty leaps forward instantaneously, catching Cordelia under the arms and holding her up. “Okay, I got you, don’t worry.”

Cordelia’s eyes are closed. “I’m sorry, I’m just… a bit dizzy.” Misty’s brow crinkles, and Cordelia takes in another shaky breath. “I was so busy today, I only just realized I forgot to eat all day. Guess it caught up to me.”

 _She’s not taking care of herself._ Misty chews on the inside of her cheek, growing raw from her constant state of anxiety. _No one is looking out for her._

“Let’s bring you to your room, kay?” Cordelia looks for a moment as though she may argue, but she forfeits the battle, accepting that she really does need the help right now.

“Thank you.” She straightens up, eager to prove she is capable of making it the short walk to her room, but it’s not lost on Misty that a lot of weight is resting against her extended arm. They walk slowly, Misty patiently guiding her down the steps, then down the hall, trying to keep her out of sight. She doesn’t need Cordelia to tell her that she would rather die than be seen by any of the girls while she’s feeling less than her best. _She needs to eat. I’ll have to get food brought to her room._

Misty shuttles her through the bedroom door. Cordelia takes off as they cross the threshold, leaving Misty’s strong arms behind and stumbling towards her bed, landing on it with a gentle thud. It takes all of Misty’s strength to resist the urge to follow her, sit beside her, stroke her hair. _But you can’t._ Instead she hovers in the doorway, trying to disguise her overwhelming concern.

“I’m gonna get ya something to eat.”

“No, that’s-”

Misty rolls her eyes, already turning to leave. “No sense arguing. You’re not gonna win.”

She doesn’t see Cordelia’s face as she leaves, and maybe it’s for the best. There’s a tempest of emotion brewing in her already, and she can’t even begin to unpack her feelings at the moment. What she does know is that the thought of Cordelia devoting her entire life to looking out for every other person in this building while no one looks out for her makes Misty feel like her insides are being torn out. She would be that person for her in a heartbeat. She would drop everything if Cordelia asked her to, needed her to.

Maybe she shouldn’t. With the way Cordelia has been treating her lately, maybe she doesn’t deserve that.

It doesn’t matter. Misty knows she’d run to Cordelia’s side if she even so much as hinted that she wanted her. No questions asked.

The dining room is more or less empty, dinner having ended a short while ago, and the two young girls who are poking around for leftovers in the kitchen quickly shuffle out upon Misty’s arrival, despite her friendly greeting. She heats up a plate of tonight’s dinner from the fridge, some stir fry and rice, and gets a tall glass of water, successfully managing to sneak it out of the kitchen without anyone catching her. Though, truly, the only person who would enforce the no-eating-in-your-room policy is Cordelia, and she’s the culprit in this case.

“I brought you real food, with lotsa veggies,” she announces as she re-enters the room, but she quiets as she sees Cordelia, laying on her bed, eyes closed. “Oh, hon. You’re not feeling great, huh?” She ignores the way the accidental term of endearment stings her chest.

“I’ve been running myself ragged, I guess.” With that, she sits up. “I’m just over exhausted.”

“Well, some food’ll help.” Cordelia nods as Misty hands her the plate, taking it awkwardly.

“I never eat in here.”

“Well, it’s fun to break the rules once in a blue moon, right?”

Cordelia musters up a little smile. “I guess so.” She picks at the food on her plate with a fork. “You don’t have to watch me eat. I’m alright.”

The air is thick with a sort of awkward tension, and Misty shuffles back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Alrighty, well, I guess I’ll let you finally get some rest then.” She nods, as if excusing herself, and turns to leave, one small part of her hoping maybe, just maybe, Cordelia will ask her to stay.

“Thanks, Misty. I mean it. I appreciate this.” Misty nearly draws blood from the cheek she’s been gnawing at.

“Any time. Anything you need.” And she turns, stepping out of the room.

She isn’t sure why her heart aches so badly.

\--

Misty is inhaling the last bite of a bagel when Zoe walks in to the kitchen.

“Hey, Misty.” Her face has bad news written all over it. “Uh, Cordelia asked if you’d go talk to her in her office after Morning Gathering.”

“Oh,” she mumbles, swallowing. “Sure. Thanks.”

Zoe exits quickly, clearly not wanting to stick around, and Misty suddenly thinks she might puke. _Don’t be such a drama queen._ She has no idea what Cordelia might want to discuss. Maybe it’s harmless, or a quick thank you for last night.

Or maybe she’s kicking her out.

The thought travels like ice in her veins, feeling as though she may explode from worry. She wouldn’t, right? Misty has nowhere to go, and no money she could use to find anywhere to stay. Then again, Cordelia is the Supreme; she could surely get an apartment or a hotel for Misty with the flick of her finger.

_Fuck._

By the time she is making her way up the stairs to Cordelia’s office, Misty has already accepted that she is being kicked out of Miss Robichaux’s Academy. She’s practically started packing. Cordelia has made it immensely clear she doesn’t want her around. She should have realized this was coming.

Her palms sweat as she knocks lightly on the door. Maybe if she knocks quietly enough Cordelia won’t hear, and she can run away, get out of here with some semblance of her pride left. But she hears Cordelia’s soft “come in,” and she rubs her clammy hands against her thighs before opening the door.

“Hi, Misty,” Cordelia greets, offering a friendly smile that Misty thinks just might be genuine.

“Zoe told me you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I did.” Cordelia motions towards a chair that sits facing her desk. _Jesus Christ._ Misty lowers herself nervously into the chair. It’s hard to believe the thought of Cordelia used to be the single most comforting thing Misty could fathom, and now she can barely make eye contact with her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Mhmm.” _Don’t be so nervous._ She swallows. _It might be nothing._

“The council and I were talking about how fortunate we are to have a witch of your caliber around here, living with us, among the students,” she starts. Misty perks up a bit. _This sounds promising._ “It would be a shame not to use that opportunity to its full potential.”

Misty exhales audibly. “Oh. Well, I’m happy to help out however I can.”

“We were wondering if you wanted to teach some of the girls, older ones, just a few hours a week-”

“Cordelia,” she cuts her off, realizing too late she forgot the Miss. “I don’t… have powers anymore.”

“Right.” There’s a flash of something in Cordelia’s eyes, so fleeting she almost misses it. “I suppose that’s not entirely unexpected. But that’s alright. We were actually hoping you might be willing to teach more in the vicinity of gardening and potions. It’s such a valuable skill, and I had been teaching it up until now, but I thought perhaps you could take over.”

“Oh, thank God,” she says without thinking. “Thought you were gonna kick me out.”

“What? No, Misty, of course not. You are a part of this coven, and you will have a home here as long as you want one.” This time the smile is definitely genuine.

“Well, because…” She pauses, shakes it off, recalibrates. “Thanks. And I’d love that. To work with some of the girls, I mean. It’s been a lil’ boring around here, for me, if I’m honest.”

Cordelia chuckles. “I figured. And it would be a great help to me, really. I’ve been a little overworked, as you unfortunately had to witness first hand.”

Misty forces herself not to reach across the table and take Cordelia’s hand. “It’s really no skin off my back, I was happy to be there for you.”

Cordelia clears her throat, a bit awkward. “Well. You would just take the oldest girls a twice a week, in the afternoons. If any are really promising, you can let me know, and I can arrange for you to work one on one with them to really hone their skills.”

“That sounds awesome. Thank you.” Misty glances around nervously, unsure if she should leave. She’d be lying if she said it isn’t wonderful to spend a few moments with Cordelia where things are pleasant, friendly. Certainly not what they used to be, but maybe whatever mysterious crime she is apparently guilty of is being slowly forgiven. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “Is that all?”

“For now. We can talk more about teaching in the next few days.”

Misty stands from her seat, her whole body feeling lighter with her nerves settled. Her cheeks are warm, still recovering from the rush of anxiety she’d experienced when she entered a moment ago. Heading towards the door, she stops as she reaches the door frame, turning.

“Hey, Cordelia? Would you like to watch a movie or something tonight? Or we could watch some of that British baking show you like… or, used to like… I don’t know, is that even still on?” She’s rambling, and Cordelia cuts her off.

“It is,” she says first. A troubled look has taken the place of Cordelia’s smile, frowning at Misty with pained eyes. For a moment she seems to be trying to decide what she wants to say. “But I don’t think that’d be wise, Misty. I think it’s best for everyone if we keep things strictly professional.”

 _Best for everyone._ Misty rolls the words over in her tongue, half worried she may have repeated them back out loud. _Best for everyone, or best for you? I don’t recall being asked what was best for me._ She says none of this, nodding instead.

“Alrighty. Talk to ya later.”

\--

She stares at her plate, pushing cooked veggies around with her fork. Tonight’s dinner was a chicken stew, and apparently Miss Robichaux’s vegetarian options are still practically non-existent. _At least some things haven’t changed._ So she’s stuck with more of last night’s leftover stir-fry, though really she’s been boring holes into her plate with her eyes for twenty minutes.

 _You will have a home here as long as you want one._ Those were the words Cordelia had said, the exact words, the ones that had made the butterflies settle in her stomach. For one brief moment, she’d thought things might get better. She shouldn’t have asked. She should have just let the moment stay as it was, pleasant, warm. But she’d pushed it, and Cordelia had shut it down, and now she’ll probably be pissed again, and she’ll be back to getting the cold shoulder, and if she’d just allowed it to move slowly instead-

“That broccoli’s really pissing you off, huh?” The voice pulls Misty from her spiraling thoughts. It’s that new girl, Coco, who seems nice enough, if a bit _much_. The room has apparently emptied without her noticing, and only Coco, Zoe and Mallory are left sitting at the table, staring at her.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“Are you okay?” Zoe asks quietly. Misty winces with pain as she absent-mindedly goes to chew on the inside of her cheek again. She needs to stop doing that; she keeps drawing blood.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Zoe glances to the other girls, assessing, before whispering once more. “Is she still being weird with you?”

She’s vaguely aware that they shouldn’t be discussing this here, but she can’t bring herself to care. She hasn’t spoken with anyone about her confusing situation with Cordelia, and now that she’s been asked so directly, she can feel the floodgates opening.

“At least she’s talking to me now,” she whispers. “But she’s all hot and cold. One second she’s telling me how much everyone wants me here and that I can stay as long as I like and the next she’s kicking me out of her office and I just… I dunno what’s going on.”

Zoe gives her that same sympathetic look, and the other girls are exchanging looks beside her. Coco mouths “Cordelia?” to Mallory, who responds with a halfhearted shrug.

“Well, _we_ are all so glad you’re here. This place is always more fun when you’re around. And I know she is too, in her own way. I wouldn’t read too much into her. Like I said, she’s just weird these days. I know she’s really grateful that you’re taking over her potions classes.”

“Wait, you’re teaching potions now?” Coco jumps in, brows crinkling in confusion. “Why isn’t Cordelia teaching it anymore? I mean, I’m sure you’re great, I’m not complaining, but it’s the only class she still really teaches.”

Misty turns to Zoe, no clue how to answer. _Is Cordelia really only teaching that one class, and now she’s passing it off to me?_ Zoe looks as if she’s pondering her answer, trying to find the exact right thing to say.

“She’s overworked,” she says finally, and Misty flushes a bit with the thought of how Cordelia would hate them discussing her like this. Zoe probably shouldn’t be sharing this information. It’s not exactly professional. But then again, the lines have clearly become blurred with Zoe and Queenie serving on the council. Zoe’s just a kid; Misty is pretty sure both Coco and Mallory are older than her. _And yet Cordelia and I can’t even spend a few minutes together without her decreeing it too unprofessional._

“What does she even do all day?” Coco wonders aloud, tone rife with judgement, and Misty isn’t sure why she’s so compelled to defend her, but she is.

“Lots,” she bites back, and Coco’s eyes flash with nerves.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that to be so mean.”

Misty sighs. “No, I’m sorry. You were just asking.” It’s not a bad question, either, the more Misty thinks about it. If Cordelia isn’t really teaching much, and just managing the administrative side of things, surely she shouldn’t be exhausting herself to the point of passing out.

“There’s a lot you guys don’t see, behind the scenes,” Zoe explains calmly. “And Cordelia cares so much about everything, about everyone here. It weighs on her, I think.”

Misty is eager to change the subject, strangely uncomfortable at how openly the girls are discussing Cordelia’s personal life.

“I guess it’s probably nothing,” Misty admits. “The weirdness I mean. She’s just, you know, so different than she was when I… left.” She doesn’t like to say _died._ It’s so morbid. “Thanks, Zo.”

She picks her plate up, full of uneaten food long since gone cold. Her stomach is permanently uneasy these days. Ducking into the kitchen, she lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“What’s her deal?” Coco asks, far too loudly, and Misty rolls her eyes from the next room. She lays her plate down quietly on the counter, not wanting to call attention to herself.

“When Misty was in the coven, Cordelia and her always had this… _thing_ going on.” Misty freezes where she stands, and she hears Coco gasp in excitement.

“Cordelia had a _thing_ with a student?”

“Jesus, Coco, calm down. First of all, Misty was never a student here. She was like, in her twenties when she showed up here.” Misty smirks to herself. Zoe says it like she was days away from ending up in a retirement home. “And second of all, nothing _happened_ , they just spent a few weeks making puppy dog eyes at each other and then Misty got stuck in Hell and Cordelia spent the next two years moping around and reminding us all endlessly that Misty was the best witch to ever step foot through these doors, blah blah.”

“Sounds like she had it bad,” Mallory says quietly, and Misty realizes it’s the first she’s heard the quiet girl speak all night.

“She did. I used to pray Misty would come back just so it would shut Cordelia up.”

“So, am I the only one who didn’t know Cordelia was gay? ‘Cause I have an _expert_ gaydar, and I never really got that vibe from her.”

Misty can practically hear the other girls rolling their eyes. “She had a husband when I first came here," Zoe explains. "A total douche. She had _just_ kicked him out when Misty first showed up. So who knows. At first we all just thought she was lonely and heartbroken and falling for the first person who treated her with respect, but…”

But what?

 _Stop eavesdropping._ She’s heard enough, scraping her plate loudly over the garbage and placing it in a bin of dirty dishes soon to be washed. It always feels strange, leaving her used dishes in the kitchen for someone else to deal with. Not how she’s used to living. But Cordelia insisted the cleaning crew would prefer to handle the dishwasher themselves.

 _Cordelia._ She can’t stop turning Zoe’s words over and over in her head as she heads back up to her room. _She had it bad._ Zoe made it sound like Cordelia had mourned her endlessly for two years. Indeed, the first day back, that’s how it had felt--like two people who’d spent the past two years of their lives willing to cut off their own arms to see each other again, finally getting their wish. _Nothing makes any fucking sense._ Her eyes burn with hot tears, and she picks up the pace on the stairs, eager to get back to her room to lose her shit in private. At least she knows Queenie has kept her secret.

She closes the door behind her harder than she intends, the slam reverberating through the hall. _Oops._ She flops down on the bed, sobbing in earnest now, drawing her knees up to her chest.

This isn’t healthy. She can’t live like this. As excited as she is about the prospect of teaching young witches, she can’t live under this roof, spending every waking minute thinking about Cordelia and wondering where they went wrong, if this is fixable, if she’ll ever get to hold her, touch her, kiss her even one more time.

Because if she doesn’t, she thinks she might die.

 _I need to talk to her._ It’s not the first time she’s had the thought, nor will it be the first time she’s attempted to speak to her about this, but this time she’ll make herself heard. Make her needs clear. She needs answers if she’s going to be able to live in this house one day longer.

At this point, she’s starting to wonder if Hell was better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise there are answers in the next chapter (though perhaps you've already guessed what's going on??)
> 
> please leave a comment and come find me on twitter @disastertaurus!


	4. so tell me to run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realization hits her like a freight train, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Once she’s decided she wants to speak to Cordelia, she wants to do it _now._ Have it done. _But you shouldn’t. You’re too worked up._ She doesn’t trust herself to be civil in her current emotional state.

She cools her heels in her room for a little while, “Landslide” playing from the iPod Zoe had gave her when she complained about not having anything to play her music on. When even that isn’t calming her down, she pads down to the salon and oh-so-quietly slides a bottle of white wine out of a glass cabinet. _Pulling out the big guns._ She realizes upon arriving back in her room she doesn’t have any glasses. Oh well.

She drinks directly from the bottle.

Time hazes, blurs, Misty taking swigs of wine as Stevie’s voice fills the space. It’s only when she realizes the room has gone silent as the playlist ends that she realizes how long she’s been sitting here. The bottle is nearly half empty.

Liquid courage running through her veins, she stands, tossing a shawl over herself as she starts towards the stairs.

Her knock on Cordelia’s door is firm, loud, no longer fucking around.

No one answers.

She knocks once more, and Cordelia does not appear. _Well._ Misty sighs, frustrated, having been all set to walk in and lay it all out on the table. Now that her plans have been foiled, she feels her resolve fading. _Maybe this is a bad idea._

No. She has to do this.

She passes through the living room, where Coco appears to be giving Zoe and Mallory manicures, half empty wine glasses on the coffee table. “Hey, y’all seen Cordelia?”

“She said she’d be in the greenhouse, clearing her stuff out so you could have the space to yourself,” Zoe replies. Coco and Mallory don’t look up from their hands, but Zoe’s eyes narrow in concern. “You okay?”

“I’m just great.” Zoe looks entirely unconvinced, but Misty doesn’t stick around for more questions, turning to head towards the greenhouse with heavy footsteps.

She journeys through the kitchen, the back door, the cobblestone path in the garden, towards the glass building out back, a journey that feels ripped from her most vivid, secret dreams. She hasn’t been out here since she came back, not ready to enter this somehow sacred space again. The place where she and Cordelia had shared long nights tending to plants, building a connection Misty had never before experienced with another person. The place where she had felt a longing from so deep within her she thought she might die, until one night Cordelia kissed her and her entire world shifted. The place where she’d first felt the hands of another woman on her and finally everything made sense. She can see Cordelia’s silhouette in the dim light as she approaches, suddenly nauseated.

She doesn’t knock, swinging the door open, and Cordelia looks up as if she’s been caught committing a crime.

“Misty.”

Misty closes the door behind her, stepping towards the table. Cordelia is seated behind it, dark circles etched under her eyes. _She looks gaunt._ For a second, Misty is distracted from her intended goal. She sucks in a breath, trying to steady herself once more.

“I think it’s time for us to talk.”

For a second, Cordelia looks terrified. It passes.

“Alright.”

For all her determination, Misty has no idea what to say.

“What the fuck did I do to you?” She chokes out, angrier than intended. Cordelia’s eyes widen, surprised.

“Nothing, Misty.”

“Well, obviously I did _something,_ because a week ago I showed up here and thought being back with you would finally make everything better, and then the next morning it was like I killed your dog and now you won’t _talk_ to me, Cordelia! And I’m left wondering what I could have possibly done to piss you off so bad while I was fucking sleeping, because I spent two years missing you more than the whole fucking world and the only thing that kept me going was the memory of you, and what we did together, and being thankful that I’d met you because you were the best damn thing to ever happen to me, and then I come back here and find out apparently you regret what happened between us, and I just don’t understand _why_.” It comes tumbling out of her without thought, spilling into the silent greenhouse and filling the air until she’s suffocating, and Cordelia’s face is painted with every emotion under the sun, unreadable. She doesn’t respond, at first, though Misty can tell she wants to, can tell she’s planning her words carefully.

“I don’t regret it,” she finally whispers. “I would never.”

Misty is suddenly speechless.

“Well, then-”

“Wait, it’s my turn. I don’t regret it, I really don’t. And I’m sorry for making you think I did, and I’m so, so sorry for hurting you. I’m glad you’re back here.”

Misty blinks rapidly, desperate to stave off the tears. When Cordelia speaks again, her voice is almost inaudible.

“But I can’t be with you, anymore. I just… don’t feel that way now. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you wanted. But it’s how it has to be.”

Misty feels as though the wind has been knocked out of her. She suddenly wonders why she came here, what she expected to get out of this encounter. She wanted answers, and now that she’s getting them she wishes she’d just spent the rest of the night downing the other half of that bottle of wine. And she’s starting to feel immensely stupid for having thought she would mean as much to Cordelia as Cordelia means to her. Cordelia was her first, the only person she’s ever been with, ever loved, but Cordelia has been _married_ , has had a lifetime of experiences, and Misty was just a blip on her radar. It’s just like Zoe said. She’d been heartbroken about Hank, confused, vulnerable, and Misty had been there. Who knows if she even really likes girls.

And then another voice in her head, the one that lives to tease her, pipes up. _She kept your clothes in her bedroom. She mourned you for two years. She never shut up about you_. Even now, she kept a room for her here, a valuable bed, and offered her a job, and told her she’d always have a place here… Misty’s brow creases as she stares into brown eyes, searching them, her heart rate skyrocketing as she stares at Cordelia and suddenly realizes with complete certainty that she is lying through her teeth.

“It’s not true,” she breathes. “You’re lying to me.”

Brown eyes fill with tears, Cordelia’s chest rising and falling.

“Yeah.”

The room spins, from alcohol and confusion.

“Why?”

She can tell Cordelia doesn’t know how to answer.

“Because you can’t be with me, Misty. It doesn’t matter how I feel, or you feel. We can’t.”

“Tell me _why.”_

“No.”

Misty wants to start smashing things, emotions rising to the surface in a burst of sudden heat, and before she knows it she is crying full out, arms crossed protectively across her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” She cries out, desperation colouring her voice.

“Because we _can’t,_ Misty. For so many reasons. And I’d give anything for it to be different, but we just can’t.”

Without standing, Cordelia extends an arm to touch her, to take her hand, but Misty moves backwards, betrayal in her eyes.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Okay.”

She doesn’t understand anything, even more confused than she was when she came in here, but she can tell she won’t be getting any real answers, so she continues to back up. _It’s not her fault._ It’s not her fault Misty fell head over heels for her, that she feels as though she’ll never be whole without this woman. It’s not Cordelia’s fault a naive girl who’d never had a friend fell for her and allowed her to become the center of her universe.

Eventually, Misty sighs into the silence. “Do you want me to leave? Find somewhere else to stay?”

“What? Of course not.” Cordelia looks hurt by the suggestion. “I told you, this is your home, as long as you want it to be. And besides, I really do need someone to teach my classes.”

Misty runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “Then will you at least talk to me, treat me like anyone else here? Can we be friends?” She knows she’ll regret this--being friends with Cordelia without being anything else to her sounds like nothing short of torture. _But surely it’s better than nothing._

Cordelia softens. “Yes. I’m sorry if I’ve been… cold, I was just trying to… I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

They’re both crying, now, and Misty wants so badly to wrap Cordelia up in her arms. Instead, she steps forward once more, lays her hand on Cordelia’s.

“I miss you.”

Cordelia is silent for what feels like ages.

“I miss you too,” she whispers.

“Then why-“

“Don’t,” Cordelia cuts in. “Don’t ask. This is just how it has to be.”

She wants to take Cordelia by the shoulders and shake her, to snap her out of whatever strange haze has settled over her mind, to beg and beg until she gets answers and understands what’s going on. She does none of that. The room is silent for another moment, before Cordelia pulls her hand out from under Misty’s.

“I’ll leave you be,” Misty mutters.

“We can meet about your teaching plans tomorrow. I’m clearing my stuff out of the space so it’ll be all yours.” _We can share,_ she wants to say. But she doesn’t. “Come to my office at 10:30?”

Misty nods. “See ya then.”

\--

She’s been back in her room no more than twenty minutes when she realizes the wine bottle is now empty. _I could go get more_. She shakes the thought from her head--she’s already going to regret this in the morning.

And yet it isn’t enough to knock her out, nor enough to stop the menacing sadness that eats at her from the inside. Why is she even here if she can’t have Cordelia? Because she has friends here, is her official answer, but really she knows it’s because she’s still so pathetically in love with the woman that she doesn’t want to be parted. She’d rather stay here and wallow in self-pity over her.

Sobs wrack her body, soaking through her pillow. This must be more than a case of confused, overdramatic feelings. This can’t just be a matter of Cordelia being the first person she ever loved. She feels pulled to her, tied to her as if by fate. Cordelia held her as she crumbled to ash, and was the first person she returned to when she was whole again.

She aches with loneliness, desperate to be held, to not be alone. She needs warmth, she needs to not be stuck here in horrifying silence with nothing but the sound of her own heaving breaths. Who can she go to? No one knows, and she can’t explain it to anyone, except-

Queenie. Queenie knows.

Misty wipes her face, her nose, on her sleeve, sniffling. _Pull yourself together._ She’ll go to Queenie. They were never close, not really, but she knows and she’s always been nothing but kind to her.

And anyways, she’s desperate.

She moves quickly to Queenie’s door, her shaking form wrapped tightly in a blanket. She knocks quietly, eager not to wake anyone else. “Queenie? It’s Misty.”

She hears footsteps, and then the door swings open. “Misty? What’s- Oh.” Misty crumbles as Queenie lays eyes on her, face blotchy and swollen with tears.

“Can I come in for a bit?” She asks tearfully, and Queenie steps aside instantly, motioning towards her bed. Misty sits, and immediately the sobbing resumes, her body folding and her face buried in her hands.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?”

Misty’s answer is completely unintelligible, a mess of sobs and gasps and whimpers that Queenie can’t even begin to understand. But she can certainly guess.

“Cordelia?” She ventures, and Misty nods vigorously. “Oh, girl, I’m sorry.”

“She said she…” She takes a gasping breath. “I don’t even know, she told me she still has feelings for me but we can never be together and I don’t _understand._ ”

She doesn’t register the look of surprise on Queenie’s face as she buries her face in her chest, only noticing arms that come to wrap her up tightly, hold her.

“You mean so much to her,” Queenie whispers. “I promise. She spent years missing you, wanting you back.”

Misty’s voice is muffled, speaking into the fabric of Queenie’s pajama shirt. “Well, she has me, so why can’t we just be like we were before?”

There is silence, Queenie’s hand tracing soothing circles against Misty’s back.

“I think only Cordelia can answer that,” she finally replies.

“I know.”

They stay like that a while, Queenie holding Misty as her sobs eventually fade to silent tears.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles eventually, pulling away. “I’m a mess. I mighta had a bit too much to drink.”

“You smell like a wine cellar.”

“I’m sorry.”

Queenie smiles sadly. “Don’t be.” Misty frowns. “And you have a lot of friends here, okay? Even if Cordelia is weird as fuck. The rest of us love you. She does too, we’re just more normal about it.”

Misty smiles in return. “Thanks.” She moves to stand. “I’ll go back to my room, I’ve-”

“You can stay,” Queenie says quickly. “If you don’t wanna sleep alone.”

 _Thank God._ She’d been desperately hoping Queenie would offer. “That would be real nice.”

\--

Sunlight streams through the curtains as she awakens, long since risen. Queenie is gone, the bed empty--and no kidding, as a glance at the clock reveals it’s well past 10 AM. Queenie is already teaching.

Her mouth is dry as sandpaper, head swimming and the room entirely too bright. _Shit. I’m supposed to meet with Cordelia in ten minutes._

Cordelia.

Last night’s events hit her like a ton of bricks, remembering the conversation, the tears, the aching sadness. And then as quickly as the memory arrives, she forces it away.

She needs to be okay, now. She needs to pull herself together.

Summoning her energy, she drags herself out of Queenie’s bed and back to her room. She needs to look at least somewhat presentable, and not like she drank herself into a breakdown and passed out in someone else’s bed last night. So she brushes her teeth, dresses herself, steels her nerves and heads downstairs.

But as she passes the kitchen, she’s intercepted by Zoe, swooping in front of her and stopping her dead in her rapid tracks.

“Hey, Zo, I can’t talk, supposed to meet-”

“I know, she asked me to pass on a message, but then I thought you might sleep past 10:30 anyways, so I figured I’d just let you sleep in. Rough night?”

“What?”

“Cordelia has to reschedule. She didn’t say when, just asked me to tell you she can’t meet this morning.”

Misty squints, irritation boiling in her blood. “Why?”

Zoe shrugs, and Misty rolls her eyes. “Cool. Great. Thanks.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Zoe mumbles, but Misty is too annoyed to feel bad. Last night Cordelia was promising her they could be friends, and now twelve hours later she’s back to her usual mixed signals and shutting her out. “Do you want a little breakfast?”

“I’m good.” Misty glances into the kitchen, seeing a few girls sipping tea at the table. “Where’s Cordelia now?”

“Um, I think she’s in her room, but I don’t think she’d want-”

“I don’t care,” Misty bites back. “I’m gonna go deal with some shit.” She takes off, unaware of the worried glance Zoe gives her as she makes her way down the hall.

 _I’m done_. She’ll tell Cordelia she’s out. She can’t stomach this routine for another day. She used to live alone in a swamp, for Christ’s sake, she can find a way to live on her own once again, even if she has no money. Time to end this once and for all.

“Cordelia?” She bangs on the door, no longer caring who may hear. “Cordelia, let me in.”

There’s no answer, and she stands still for a moment, listening. “Cordelia?” She calls again. Silence.

Worry immediately takes the place of her anger. _She’s probably just in her office._ And yet she feels herself compelled to open the door, just to be sure. To know she’s okay.

She opens it a crack, peering in. The room appears to be empty. She’s about to close it once again when a raspy voice rings out from the bathroom.

“Misty?”

“Oh, so ya are here.”

She hears a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I told Zoe to tell you I can’t this morning, I hoped she’d be able to catch you…”

Misty steps into the room, all irritation with Cordelia dissipated. “She did. I just wanted to… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answers immediately, instinctually, before realizing it’s too obvious a lie. She’s been caught. “I’m just not feeling well,” she adds quietly.

Misty doesn’t wait for an invitation, following Cordelia’s voice into the bathroom. She finds her seated on the floor, head leaning heavily against the wall, pale, sweaty. _Maybe I’m not the only one who had too much to drink last night._ “Oh, you poor thing.” All pretense is gone, as Misty crouches to the floor, laying a hand over Cordelia’s damp forehead. She’s burning. _That’s not a hangover._ She should know better than to think Cordelia would allow herself to get hungover on a weekday, anyways.

Cordelia doesn’t recoil from her touch, allowing Misty to push a few stray hairs from her face. Maybe she’s too tired to fight her off. _Or maybe she secretly wants a little love right now._ The room smells of sweat and vomit.

“Can I get you some drugs, or something?”

“Can’t…” Cordelia shivers. “Can’t keep anything down right now.” Misty stands and rummages through Cordelia’s cabinet for a soft cloth, soaking it with cool water and wringing it out. She lays it over the nape of Cordelia’s neck. “That’s nice.” Misty leaves it there, running a gentle hand through Cordelia’s blonde hair, wet with sweat.

Cordelia lurches under Misty’s hands, hovering over the toilet and retching violently. “You’re okay,” Misty whispers. “You’re alright.” Cordelia whimpers. She flushes. When she leans back, she looks even more spent than before. Misty gives her a sympathetic smile, wiping the cloth across her forehead. Her heart goes out to the woman--she looks absolutely miserable, trembling on the bathroom floor. A blaze of worry brews in Misty’s stomach. _Supremes have perfect health._

“So, what’s the deal? Someone knock you up?” It’s an attempt at a joke, but Cordelia’s eyes flash with fear. “Wait. Cordelia, are you…?”

Cordelia laughs emptily, laying her hand over her stomach. “God, no. Definitely not. Believe me.”

Misty’s face betrays her relief, if only for a second. “So, what then? Thought y’all weren’t able to get sick. Part of the Supreme benefits package. You have a bit too much to drink last night?”

“Something like that.” Cordelia moves to stand on shaking legs, Misty’s arms quickly reaching to help her up. “I need to lie down a bit. I’ll see you later, Misty.” The deflection is not lost on her.

“Why don’t I stay with you a bit?”

Cordelia sighs, shaking herself free from Misty’s grasp as she heads towards the bed. “No, that’s alright, thank you.”

_She’s kicking me out._

She watches as Cordelia settles onto her bed, and Misty ducks into the bathroom, filling a glass with water and re-entering to leave it on Cordelia’s bedside table. She’s rewarded with a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Misty nods. “Well, I hope you feel better real soon.”

“I’ll see you later.”

She clicks the door shut behind her, frowning as she heads back towards her own room. _I really hope she’s okay._ At least she’ll remember not to jump to conclusions the next time Cordelia asks her to reschedule a meeting. Though who can blame her, considering how weird she has been lately.

_Oh._

The realization hits her like a freight train, stopping her dead in her tracks. Cordelia’s weirdness, her constant exhaustion, her dizzy spells. Her inexplicable but resolute assertion that they can’t be together, even though she still has feelings for Misty. She feels as though the hallway is spinning. _Supremes have perfect health. Until they don’t._

Cordelia is dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii thanks for reading you know the drill leave a comment i have twitter blah blah


	5. watch what we'll become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re fading,” Misty whispers. Cordelia’s eyes widen. “I don’t know how I didn’t catch on earlier.”
> 
> “They told you?” Her eyes betray her hurt, her betrayal at the thought of having her secrets shared. 
> 
> “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry for the long wait, things are a bit slower now as i'm back at school and also i'm notoriously lazy.

She doesn’t burst into tears, doesn’t cry, though she does worry for a second that she may pass out. She tries to gasp air into her lungs but can’t, leaning against the wall of the hallway and gripping the backs of her arms against it to stay upright.

Part of her wants to go right back into Cordelia’s room, climb into her bed, and tell her she knows and it’s okay and she’s here and she’s not going anywhere. _You won’t help anything by sobbing all over her while she’s not feeling well._ She needs to get back to her own room, to have this imminent breakdown in private. But she still can’t move.

“Misty? What’s wrong?” Zoe peeks her head out of the doorway to the Ancestral Room. She must look a sight, Misty realizes, hyperventilating in the hallway here where anyone could see. She stares at Zoe, trying to wrangle her own thoughts into something comprehensible, forgetting that Zoe is probably in the middle of teaching a class. And then it dawns on her.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” It’s slightly evasive.

She’s so damn dizzy, squeezing her hands into fists and trying to blink the blurriness free from her eyes. “Do you know about Cordelia?”

Zoe’s eyes widen with devastating sympathy, and now Misty is positive she is about to faint.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry,” Zoe whispers.

“Oh my God.”

Zoe glances nervously behind her, back into the room, and Misty notices for the first time the low buzz of girls chatting. “Misty, I need to teach, but—”

Now, finally, she feels the sob bubble up from deep within her chest, her shock crumbling and making way for an overwhelming, horrifying devastation. “What am I going to do?”

Zoe looks outright panicked, motioning with her hand for Misty to wait a second and ducking back into the room. “Girls, I have a thing I need to do, everyone take a five minute break and come back, okay?”

She shuffles Misty up the stairs towards her room, whisking her out of sight of the students, closing the door firmly behind them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” she whispers. “It just… wasn’t really my business to share.”

“No, I know.” Misty is slightly less hysterical, lowering herself down onto her bed. “I’m not mad. I’m just…”

“I know.”

A new wave of tears washes over her, and she buries her face in Zoe’s chest, feeling her arms circle her. “She can’t die, Zoe. She can’t.”

Zoe’s hand rubs her back. “She’s a Supreme. That’s how it goes.”

Misty pulls away, looking her dead in the eyes. “But it’s _not._ She’s only been the Supreme a few years. They get decades. It’s not her time.”

Zoe nods gently. “I know. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. But apparently, it _is_ her time.” Misty chokes as she hears the words.

“How long has this been happening? How long have you known?”

Zoe glances towards the door, nervous, as if unsure if she should be sharing this information. “She started complaining that she wasn’t feeling great a month ago, and then it all… happened really fast. Faster than anyone expected. A month ago things were normal, and now… it’s scary.”

“That’s why she wanted me to teach her classes,” Misty says out loud as the thought dawns on her. “She needs me to take over for when she… when was she going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

Misty crumbles into Zoe’s embrace once again, shaking as she breathes in the comforting scent of fruity shampoo. “I don’t want her to die,” her muffled voice cries into Zoe’s chest. “She can’t die.”

“I’m so sorry, Misty. I’m so sorry.”

 _You’re being selfish,_ the voice in Misty’s head tells her. _Cordelia is the only maternal figure Zoe has known since she was 16, and you’re just some girl who had sex with Cordelia once and lost her mind. She shouldn’t be comforting you right now._

She pulls out of the hug, gathering herself. “No, I’m sorry, Zoe. This must be so awful for you, you’ve been with her all these years, it’s not fair for me to…”

“Shhh.” Zoe wipes tears from her cheeks with her thumbs. “I know how much Cordelia meant to you. _Means._ ” Misty tries not to pay attention to the accidental past tense. “And how much you mean to her. And besides, Queenie and I have done enough crying about it to last a lifetime.”

“It’s so unfair.”

“It is.”

They sit for a moment, before Zoe awkwardly looks towards the door. “I've really got to get back to class. Will you be okay here, by yourself?”

Misty nods. “I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

Zoe gives her hand one last squeeze as she stands and heads towards the door. It closes behind her, the sound echoing through the silence of Misty’s bedroom.

Just like that, she is alone.

\-- 

She goes on a three hour walk, taking random turns down New Orleans streets she’s never walked down. Her family never came here, growing up, and when she lived here before she died she stuck to the quiet outskirts of the city. The swamp. Now, she roams the streets aimlessly, staring up at pretty houses, imagining who might live there.

Anything to distract herself.

A dead rat lays by the curb as she turns a corner, seemingly not too long gone. The stench of death has just barely rolled over its body. She crouches, knowing it won’t work, positive that it won’t work, and yet she crosses her hands over it, willing with everything in her for it to come back. Her eyes close, and she searches for the familiar feeling of the power surging from her heart, through her arms, to the tips of her fingers. But she feels nothing, and when she opens her eyes the rat still lays there, glassy eyes frozen open. _Useless. Fucking useless._

She ends up in a park, bird watching, people watching, until eventually the sun begins to set and she realizes she should head back to Miss Robichaux’s. She’s farther than she realized, and as she walks in the dark through unfamiliar streets, she’s surprised to realize she’s scared.

 _You used to be scared of nothing._ The old Misty was used to being alone, to having to fend for herself. Now, she finds her pace quickening as she longs for the familiar bright lights of the school.

Zoe and Queenie are in the foyer as she enters. Zoe’s eyes widen in vague relief as she sees her. “Oh, good, you’re back. Where were you?”

“Went for a walk. Needed to clear my head.”

“You okay now?”

She looks at her doubtfully. “Sure.” Zoe knows she isn’t. “Have you seen Cordelia?”

Queenie and Zoe share a glance. “She hasn’t been out.”

Misty stomach turns. “She really wasn’t doing well when I went in this morning. Someone should bring a little food. Or just be with her.”

The girls glance at each other again.

“She doesn’t like us to see her like this,” Queenie says quietly. “Usually she just wants to be alone.”

Misty rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit. I’m going.” She’s already heading towards the kitchen as she speaks, too far to hear the quiet “good luck” Queenie whispers under her breath.

She’s not sure what Cordelia would eat, but if she’s even half as sick as she was this morning, Misty would guess the answer is _not much._ She toasts two pieces of bread and butters them, and makes a mug of peppermint tea, something her mama used to make her for an upset stomach. Preparing herself emotionally, she brings them to Cordelia’s bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Delia? It’s me.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “Come in,” she hears finally.

Cordelia is curled under blankets, white as a sheet and eyes bloodshot. Misty swallows roughly as she takes in the sight of her.

“I brought you a little something to eat.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation, heading towards the bed and taking a seat. “And some tea. Supposed to settle the stomach.”

“Thank you.” She moves to a sitting position, back rested against pillows, and holds out shaking hands for the mug. Misty hands it to her gently, studying her as she takes a sip. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Can you try a bit of toast for me?” Cordelia bites her lip anxiously, before accepting the plate into her lap and biting a small corner of the bread. “You need some sustenance.”

Cordelia takes another small bite. “You don’t need to keep me company.”

“But I want to.”

Cordelia can’t argue with that. She puts the rest of the piece of toast back down on the plate, not wanting to push her luck. For a moment, she and Misty look at each other. Thinking.

“Thanks for-“

“You’re fading,” Misty whispers. Cordelia’s eyes widen. “I don’t know how I didn’t catch on earlier.”

“They told you?” Her eyes betray her hurt, her betrayal at the thought of having her secrets shared.

“No.” Some small part of her had still been hoping Cordelia would laugh, that this had all been some misunderstanding, that she’d managed to get food poisoning and everything would be fine tomorrow. Instead, Cordelia continues to stare at her, deep pain evident in her brown eyes. Against her better judgement, Misty reaches out a hand and takes Cordelia’s in hers. It’s clammy. “No, I just… finally put all the clues together.”

“Oh.”

She wants to hold Cordelia more than anything in the world right now.

So she does.

She climbs over to her side, laying on top of the covers, pulling Cordelia’s body into her own. She wraps her arms around her tightly, running her hand gently through Cordelia’s hair. The older woman shivers slightly, and Misty squeezes her tighter, wishing she could give her all her warmth. Freeze for her.

She becomes aware, suddenly, that Cordelia is crying. “Oh, Delia,” she whispers. Tears spring to her own eyes, for the umpteenth time today, but she forces them back. _Be there for her, right now._ She has a million things she wants to ask her, but somehow she thinks now isn’t the time. So she just lays with her, Cordelia’s backed folded perfectly into her stomach, and runs her hands over her in her best attempt at comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia whispers into the silence. Misty’s heart shatters.

“Gosh, for what?”

“For being so… I didn’t know… I couldn’t tell you…” The pitch of her voice rises as she becomes more emotional, and Misty shushes her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” _You can say that again._ “None of this is okay.”

She knows she shouldn’t, but as Cordelia’s shoulders shake against her, Misty presses a kiss into the back of her head, eliciting a whimper from her. “How do you feel right now? Do you still feel sick?”

She sees Cordelia’s head bob. “I feel sick all the time,” she whispers. “But this is the worst it’s been. Normally I can just… hide it.”

“You don’t have to hide, Delia.”

Cordelia doesn’t answer.

“Can I ask you something, though?”

Cordelia nods once again.

“I just thought… don’t Supremes get longer? I thought it wasn’t supposed to happen so… soon.”

Cordelia lets out a sob, and Misty is half ready to apologize for even asking, but she quiets herself. “We’re supposed to. We’re supposed to have decades. A whole generation. I don’t know why I… I came to the Supremacy late, I guess, and my mother held onto her power for so long, and… all I know is I woke up one day a month ago feeling like shit, and weak, and practically powerless, and since then it’s been… it’s been a nightmare.” Misty kisses her hair again as Cordelia struggles to catch her breath. “It’s happening so fast. Way faster than it’s supposed to. It… none of it makes sense.”

“I’m so sorry.” There’s truly nothing more to say; she wishes there were. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Silence overtakes the room again.

“I wanted to protect you from it,” Cordelia whispers. “From me. You’re _back_. You’ve been through literal Hell and now you’re _back_ and you deserve so much more than taking care of a sick woman and watching her die.”

The words knock the wind out of her. At first she doesn’t know what on earth to respond, laying there dumbstruck, but then a thought crosses her mind.

“I think that’s why I’m here, Delia.”

“What?”

Maybe it’s insane, but she feels certain of it as she speaks. “I think I was brought back to be with you. To take care of you. To see you again before you…” Something else occurs to her. _Maybe it's to save her._ She wipes the thought from her mind. _No._ She can’t.

(Unless, maybe…)

“No, Misty.” Cordelia rolls over now, and suddenly they are face to face, staring into each other’s eyes. She smells faintly of sweat. “I don’t believe that. I am not your purpose. You’re more important than that.”

Misty smiles. “Well, forget the whole fate part then. Who cares _why_ I’m back. The point is I am, I’m here. And you know I would _never_ leave you to go through this alone.”

Cordelia’s face crumples, reaching up to wipe fresh tears from her eyes. “Misty, I can’t let you…”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Cordelia buries her face into Misty’s chest, sobbing once more. _She’s probably been bottling this up all month._ She doesn’t get the impression Cordelia has many outlets for her feelings here, at the school. So busy taking care of everyone else, and then pushing them away when they try to care for her. Queenie and Zoe thought she preferred to be alone, and yet all Misty had to do was climb into her bed and she has her weeping in her arms. _Or maybe they just weren’t who she wanted by her side._

“I watched you die,” Cordelia whimpers. It burns at Misty’s insides. “I held you and I watched you disappear and… it was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Misty isn’t sure why she’s saying this, right now, as the words tug at her heart painfully. “I’m sorry—” 

“I won’t let you go through that.”

Oh.

“I don’t want you to have to watch me die. I don’t want you to go through what I went through. Losing you…”

Misty can no longer hold back the tears that burn her throat. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, nor does she have any idea what to say.

“I’m going to be there,” she finally chokes out. “I don’t care how hard it is. I’m going to be there with ya every step of the way, okay? You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

 _How did I get here?_ This morning her biggest concern was whether things would be awkward between the two of them at their meeting today. Now she’s promising to be there as Cordelia dies. So much has changed, so quickly, she can barely process it all. 

“Misty…”

“No sense arguing.” She wishes her voice sounded stronger, but it comes out tense, breaking. She buries her face in Cordelia’s hair, cheeks soaked with tears.

“Thank you,” Cordelia whispers. Misty can’t disguise the sob that escapes her.

She doesn’t want to speak anymore, not trusting herself to say anything else without completely losing it. Instead, she allows herself to become swept away by the impulse that beats in her chest.

She presses her lips against Cordelia’s, feeling her tense with surprise at first, and then melt into her. Misty’s hand cups the older woman’s cheek, still wet with tears, not wanting to part from the kiss, wishing to stay in this moment forever. No worry, no illness, no fading Supremacy or the terror of their impending loss. Just the familiar taste of Cordelia’s chapstick. One of the few things that hasn’t changed.

When they do finally part, she feels the shaking of her shoulders as Cordelia cries, until eventually the trembling stops and her tears start to slow. With her hand, Misty traces letters on Cordelia’s back, another trick her mama used to use. She spells out words, knowing Cordelia won’t realize what she’s doing. “I love you.”

Eventually, she notices Cordelia’s breathing slow, fading to an even, somewhat raspy inhale and exhale. _She’s asleep._ Misty presses a soft kiss against Cordelia's forehead, lingering for a moment, willing her to feel her love from within her slumber. It suddenly occurs to Misty that she’s not in her pajamas, and she hasn’t brushed her teeth. But if she moves now, she’ll wake Cordelia.

She’ll go in a bit. Let Cordelia fall into a deeper sleep first. She continues her tracing of letters over her back, over and over: Cordelia. I love you. She worries that if she stops, Cordelia will wake, but eventually her arm aches with the awkward position it’s been moving in, so she stops. Cordelia doesn’t budge.

 _You should get ready for bed._ She thinks it to herself over and over again, unable to pry herself away from the warmth of Cordelia, of her bed. She almost doesn’t realize that this is what she’s wanted more than anything for the past week. She’s back in Cordelia’s bed.

She just hadn’t wanted it to be like this.

 _You should get up._ But she doesn’t move. Instead, after thinking it a hundred times, she drifts off, following Cordelia into the warmth of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and as always come talk to me on twitter @disastertaurus!


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